Birdpaw's eyes had been fixed on the spot where Cheetahpaw had just been; she was startled by Marshclaw's voice addressed to Leafheart. She spun around in surprise as she heard him speak. What did he mean by 'deal with her'? Her heart pounded in her small chest as she waited for Marshclaw to do something.
"Come to the bottom of the rock," the tom instructed, his amber eyes dark.
The she-cat looked up at him in half surprise, half confusion and hesitantly got up, taking a few shaky steps toward the boulder. She stood there, looking up at him, shuffling her paws and glancing around nervously.
Marshclaw leapt down from the rock and stared fiercely into Leafheart's eyes. Even from here, Birdpaw could see she was shaking. The silence seemed to last forever as the mottled warrior fixed the queen with his amber stare; no one saw his paw as he raised it, unsheathed his claws, and slashed Leafheart right across her face.
A gasp echoed all around the cats as Leafheart let out a shriek of agony, backing away and turning her face to the side, raising one paw to try and protect her face from any more damage. Birdpaw's breath caught in her throat as she saw three red slashes cutting straight through the she-cat's fur, blood beginning to seep out and staining her white and tabby pelt scarlet. Leafheart whimpered, her eyes squeezed shut with the pain so she didn't see the second paw coming. Marshclaw slashed her again, leaving more scars. The third blow knocked her to the ground, where she lay, curled in a ball, shaking and whimpering as she waited for the fourth hit.
It never came. Marshclaw let his paw fall to the ground, the tip stained with blood. "If you speak out against me, or something even more drastic," he meowed with a calm voice which sent shivers up the apprentice's spine, "you will get something much worse than this." He bent his face down to Leafheart's. "I went easy on you this time," he murmured, almost too quiet for Birdpaw to hear. "But, if you do it again, I'll make sure you get something twice as bad." Shifting his head, he grasped her scruff and roughly dragged her to the edge of the crowd, letting her fall to the ground with a soft thud. Birdpaw saw Redfeather trying to make her way over to her, but Marshclaw's growl made her freeze in her tracks.
"Leave her," he growled. "She doesn't deserve your treatment." Licking the blood of his claws, he jumped back onto the rock. "Now, we must-"
"M-Marshclaw?" Birdpaw suddenly found herself speaking, and immediately cursed herself for doing so. She was about to speak again, but guessed it would be safer to be granted permission. Leafheart's torture was still fresh in her mind.
Marshclaw's head turned, and his gaze fixed on her. "Yes, Birdpaw?"
The apprentice suddenly understood why cats were so traumatised when they looked into his eyes. They weren't just bright amber; they actually seemed to burn. She knew they didn't actually do you any harm, but to cats like Leafheart, and maybe Redfeather, they probably felt like they did.
She looked away so she could speak without her mind being frazzled. "Forgive me for interrupting," she meowed, trying to keep her voice strong, "but will you rule us like this? Will cats be tortured like Leafheart if they speak out against you, or will you have some mercy? Not that I'm speaking out against you," she said quickly, finally managing to meet his eye. "I just thought-"
"Silence." Marshclaw raised his tail. "I can understand that this new system may shock some of you a little, but it is more necessary than you may realise at first." He paused to clear his throat. "First of all, I would like to tell you that we will no longer have the warrior code in this Clan as you recognise it."
His words were drowned by a chorus of yowls from the whole Clan except a few of the cats who were too stunned to speak. Birdpaw was one of the latter; how could a Clan live without the warrior code? They might as well be a bunch of uncivilised rogues.
"But," Marshclaw called, raising his voice above the chatter, "we will still have a code." The yowling died down, and instead the cats turned to him and pricked their ears. "Our ancestors made the warrior code long ago," he continued. "It was created seasons and seasons ago, before the cats before us knew what things were going to be like now. How could they have predicted what their descendants would be like, and what they would've needed? They created the code to suit them, but it doesn't suit us perfectly just now. This one will be adapted to our needs."
That calmed everyone down; it made it seem like he was just changing the code slightly, not taking it away completely. However, Birdpaw still remained suspicious. She hadn't forgotten how he treated Leafheart.
"How will this code work?" Pebblefoot asked, his tone interested.
"Most of the rules will be the same," Marshclaw replied. "I must add a few more, however. The first one shall be that the hunting shall only be for the newer warriors, and the apprentices. The rest of the cats may hunt as well, but feeding the Clan is not their priority, and they may eat while out hunting if they want. Secondly, the elders are no longer highly respected in the Clan."
The second one caused a disturbance among the cats. One warrior known as Thistlefur called out, "But the elders need caring for!"
"So does the rest of the Clan," Marshclaw reminded her. "And I never said the elders wouldn't be cared for, or respected; I just said they wouldn't be highly respected. They will be valued as all the Clan members, but not above the senior warriors, the guard, the deputy or the leader."
"The guard?" a cat burst out.
"Yes, the guard," Marshclaw replied. "Four warriors will be the main guard, stationed around my den. They will be classified as senior warriors, and will be above the normal warriors, who are above the apprentices."
"So will the apprentices be the lowest rank?" Thistlefur questioned.
"Pretty much. The apprentices will have the most to do for the Clan, much like normal, but with a few tasks added. These will be explained later." The leader licked his paw. "The guard members will be Yarrowleaf, Ferntail, Stormsky and Nightspots."
"But Nightspots only became a warrior two moons ago!" Pebblefoot protested, and then looked embarrassed and alarmed that he'd spoken aloud.
Marshclaw didn't take any notice. Birdpaw could hardly believe what she was hearing. Apprentices being the lowest priority in the Clan? A whole new group of warriors to protect the leader? Elders losing their respect? What was this?
A croaky, frail but still defiant voice sounded from the back of the crowd. "You're wrong!"
Hollysong!
The she-cat's tail was raised defiantly. "You can't do this," she rasped. "StarClan gave us the code; you can't just change it like this! There was never meant to be another group of warriors, and apprentices should be just as respected as the other cats. Cats like Leafheart shouldn't be tortured and beaten like this; cats should be allowed to have their own opinions! You're a heartless leader, Marshclaw, and shouldn't be permitted to rule a Clan!"
A shocked silence greeted her words. Marshclaw's amber eyes burned into the elder's milky green ones. He jumped down from the rock and padded towards her, straight and deliberate. Cats he passed shrank back, as if he was on fire and they didn't want him to touch them, intimidated by the powerful aura that seemed to radiate off of his pelt. Soon, there were no more cats standing in his path, and he stepped forward, staring at Hollysong. Amazingly, she didn't look away, and held his gaze, but Birdpaw could see how much it pained her to do so.
"Don't try to do your eye trick with me," the elder growled, still standing tall. "It has no effect."
She's lying.
Marshclaw growled. "If it has no effect," he meowed calmly, "then why are you shaking?"
The elder took longer to respond this time, and Marshclaw took his chance. Raising his paw, he tried to slash Hollysong's face like he had done with Leafheart, but the elder jerked away, only just catching the blow which left her with a small cut on her face. She turned back to him and growled, lashing out with her own paw, something that Marshclaw wasn't expecting. He gave a yowl of anger as her claws slashed him on his face, leaving a scar on his nose, dangerously close to his eye. But the blow wasn't as strong as a full-trained warrior's, and Marshclaw quickly recovered. The blow had made him even more powered up than before.
The warrior struck.
The first blow caught Hollysong on the side of her face as she turned away, trying to protect her eyes. She hissed, but didn't yowl in pain like Leafheart. Birdpaw admired her courage, but she knew the elder wouldn't be able to take it for much longer.
The second blow caught her shoulder, almost felling her.
The third blow was to her head. She staggered, blood dripping into her eyes, and looked up at him.
"You realise," she hissed, pain laced in every word, "that if you kill me, you'll only have my dead body, not my obedience?"
Marshclaw's eyes narrowed. "That may be," he growled, "but it also gets rid of a disrespectful mouth. Which, if you ask me, this Clan could do without."
And then, he raised his paw, and unleashed his full force on the weakening elder.
The fourth blow felled her. She was down. He slashed at her, tearing at her shoulders, her face, her neck, her ears. The defeated elder lay in the dirt, too weak to protect herself, and still clenching her teeth to avoid screeching. Birdpaw's eyes widened; how could she withstand the blows without making a noise?
Marshclaw hadn't stopped.
SLAM! SLAM! SLAM!
Hollysong's fur was matted with blood. Scarlet liquid, dripping from her wounds, pooling on the ground next to her as Marshclaw hit her again and again. He didn't stop, each blow falling as hard as the previous one, and more and more as the elder weakened further.
Suddenly, he halted in mid-blow, his paw half-raised. "Had enough yet? If you give in now, maybe I won't kill you. I am not the heartless leader you think I am, Hollysong. I have a few drops of mercy in me, and I will use them on you if you give in."
The tortured elder's eyes were unfocused, glazed. Birdpaw blinked. Is she dead? But the fur on her flank was still rising and falling with each ragged breath she took, and you could hear her breathing from across the clearing.
"Had enough?" Marshclaw growled, leaning down so his muzzle was next to her ear.
Cats were crowding around, trying to get a better look at what was happening. Birdpaw wriggled through the mass of bodies until she was at the front, and poked her head out between Ferntail and Pebblefoot to get a better look.
Hollysong was lying bleeding in the dirt, breathing heavily. Her eyes held a strange look, distant, glazed but not lifeless. She mumbled something.
"What?" Marshclaw leaned in closer.
Hollysong mumbled again, her eyes growing wider. Birdpaw felt her fur prickle. Something wasn't right. She felt as if something was there other than the cats, something with a powerful presence...
The elder murmured her words a little louder. "A dripping claw..." Suddenly, Hollysong sat bolt upright.
The cats jerked back in alarm.
"A dripping claw shall cover the eyes," the she-cat croaked, her eyes wide and unfocused. Her voice was distant, sending chills down Birdpaw's spine. "A-a dripping claw..." Even Marshclaw seemed confused by this. His eyes were dark, and there was a frown etched across his face.
Hollysong hadn't finished. She flopped in the dirt; any cat who saw her now would think she was mad. Suddenly, she let out an unbroken stream of words, one by one, an unstoppable river flowing from her open jaws.
"A dripping claw shall cover the eyes
With hate and betrayal, smooth with lies.
The fast one shall flee on the brink of defeat
But will return strong, if the vow is complete.
Young ones will perish, the Dark One is drawn
As the bird swoops to a bright new dawn.
The eye of the moon shall be all that remains
As the winds of the past are trapped in chains."
With those parting words, Hollysong went into spasm; her limbs tensed up, her mouth opened, her eyes grew impossibly wide, and then she fell, flopped on the ground.
Hollysong was dead, and her dying words had been a seemingly unsolvable prophecy.
