Alright, here is the second chapter. Thanks to my reivewer (yay Pearla!!), hope I get more reviews for this chapter. Oh yeah, every time I need a break for like a time lapse or something I'm gonna use the letters from a reviewers name. Keep a look out for your name!

TORN

STORMFUR x NIGHT OF NO STARS / STORMFUR x BROOK WHERE SMALL FISH SWIM

Jagged peaks rose into the rose-colored sky, piercing the small wisps of white cloud that fluttered across the pink expanse with the harsh reality of stone. At first glance the slopes looked bare and devoid of life, but on closer inspection a cat could see a multitude of small bushes, wisps of grass and tangles of thin, racing streams. The mountains were full of life, if one knew where to look.

It was these mountains that Stormfur saw every morning. Rising from his nest of moss and feathers he would stretch out his powerful muscles and yawn, his ivory teeth gleaming , and then pad out of the enormous entrance to the den into the wilderness of the mountains. His golden eyes would caress the landscape, memorizing every line of the rock, every sharp point of the cliffs and every leaf of the scrawny plants. He had lived with the Tribe of Rushing Water for nearly three moons now, and at last felt as though he had at last been truly accepted there. It had taken less time for the Tribe to accept himthan it had taken him to accept himself.

"Hey Stormfur," a soft, feminine voice murmured.

Stormfur turned; he expected to see the lithe, tabby body of his mate, Brook Where Small Fish Swim, next to him, but instead the black pelt of Night Of No Stars greeted his eager amber eyes. The pretty Tribe cat stood merely a mouselength away from him, her hazel eyes fixed on the mountains that he himself had been admiring a moment before.

"Hi Night," he mewed, touching the tip of his tail to hers in greeting. She flicked one ear to show she had received his greeting, but otherwise remained perfectly still; she looked like a cat made of solid black stone carved into the mountain – each of them a part of each other.

Night was different than the other cats in the Tribe. Most of them, especially the cave-guards, seemed to be as harsh as the environment they lived in. They weren't unfriendly or cruel, just something in their eyes and the way they talked reminded Stormfur of ShadowClan – withdrawn and wary of everyone and everything. It was not surprising that the Tribe cats were like this, one could not be emotional and live in the mountains, there was too much tragedy. The only way to survive was to harden your heart, and not to let grief and fear chip away at your defenses. But still, sometimes Stormfur longed for the easy-going atmosphere of RiverClan, the laughter of the apprentices and the gossip of the warriors as they shared a meal; not the endless defenses of the strong Tribe cats. Even Brook was like that though not to the extreme of some cats, like Bird and Jag.

But not Night. Night was the only cat he knew in the Tribe who would gaze on the beauty of the mountains in the early dawn or who would appreciate the sound of the waterfall as it crashed against the rocks. Many times he had found her sitting by the slippery rocks, her tail curled neatly around her paws, her eyes closed as she listened to the endless crash and roar of the water. He had never said anything to her about it, nor she to him, but somehow he knew she knew that they were alike.

"Would you like to go hunting?" Night whispered at last, slowly turning her shapely head so that she stared straight into his eyes. Stormfur couldn't move. Something in her eyes captivated him, something in those green-grey orbs held him fast. Her eyes weren't beautiful like Feathertail's or Brook's, but something about them made it hard to breathe.

"Uhhh…" he blinked rapidly, feeling as though he had just lifted his head above the surface of a deep pool, "Sure, yeah, that'd be fun." He mewed.

"Great," a smile played on Night's lips as she turned away again, leaping nimbly from the ledge where they rested to a rock below, "come on!" her tail waved in the air like a black banner, beckoning Stormfur to follow.

P...H...S

Stormfur balanced on a thin ledge, his body buffeted by the breeze, his claws scraping against the rock to keep him from falling into the chasm below. He crouched down, feeling the muscles in his haunches, shoulders and legs tense, and then threw himself into the air. Everything he had lost when he joined the Tribe - leaving RiverClan, not seeing the Clans's new home, giving up the river- was worth the feeling of launching off a cliff into the blank, unsupporting air. Nothing could get his heart pumping and lungs blazing and spirit soaring the way that jumping like that did. He had never known the longing of a kit wishing to fly like a bird until he had leapt into the air, and the jump had come to an end. If only he could be a bird, and hang suspended in the air for an eternity...

The leap ended all too soon as his large grey paws connected with the self of rock he had been aiming for, where Night already stood waiting for him.

"Ouch," he winced, raising one black pad. He had landed wrong, and the paw had connected solidly with a sharp stone spike. A trickle of blood oozed from the pad, staining the edges of his paw fur a deep crimson.

Night padded forward, her hazel eyes glimmering with concern. Bending down, she sniffed the injured appendage, and then began to draw her tongue across it with long, soothing strokes. After a moment or two she raised her head again.

"Better?" she asked.

"Much," Stormfur smiled, tentatively putting weight on his foot. It still stung, but he could walk, and hunt, still, "thanks."

"If it gets worse I can find you some cobwebs," Night mewed, already trotting forward to the edge of the rock.

The last stretch to the small patch of moorland where they planned to hunt was easy and Stormfur managed it easily, even with his injured paw. His antics were nothing compared to Night though, even at the best of times he could never hope to compete with her. She flew through the air, her lean body sliding through the wind with the ease of the falcons they hunted and landed as softly as though she had merely jumped a couple of mouse lengths instead of twice her own.

"Ready to hunt?" she mewed as Stormfur joined her on the expanse of springy grass. The sky stretched out above them like an unbroken blue plain, not marred by even the slightest cloud.

"Definatly," Stormfur hissed, crouching down until even the tips of his ears disappeared behind the wall of grass. The mud that coated his fur cracked, having dried during the climb upwards. Glancing at Night Stormfur saw her in the same position, her hazel eyes sweeping the grass eagerly. Suddenly she stiffened, and Stormfur realized she had spotted some piece of prey. Opening his jaws he scented the air. Yes – there was the scent, a plump mouse was in store for them and, if all went well, a falcon as well.

A screech split the air. Stormfur flinched, even after all these moons living in the mountains that shriek still made his blood freeze. A moment later a tawny blur streaked down. Sharp, cruel talons reached out, and shining silver claws dug deep into the mouse's flesh. Night let out a screech of her own and leapt forward, her long fangs biting deep into the bird's neck. Scarlet blood poured onto the grass as Night lifted her head, her eyes glowing with triumph.

Out of the corner of his eye Stormfur saw another tawny flash. It was a second falcon, probably themate of the one hanging from Night's jaws, diving down for the ground. But this predator wasn't heading for an unfortunate bit of prey - no, it's eyes were fixed on Night's back. There was no hunger for prey in it's belly, the only thing that could satisfie it was revenge for the death of it's mate.

It was too fast. There was no time to warn Night about the talons aiming for the back of her neck. Stormfur could only do one thing. Bracing himself, he let out a fearsome screech and launched himself forward...

TO BE CONTINUED...