Surprisingly, this is up fairly quickly

This chapter was up faster than I anticipated. I have recently acquired a beta, although she was not around to beta this chapter. Hopefully she will beta the next chapter, though, so no more pesky little grammar mistakes and better characterization. So…here it is. Chapter three.

This chapter is dedicated to all of my friends (particularly Jenny) for helping to get our family back on its feet. You deserve much more than a chapter dedicated to you.

Shadowed

-chapter three-

Storm…

Kiera:

I stop, my claws digging into the ground to keep myself from skidding down the pebbly hill. I struggle for a moment to keep my body suspended diagonally on the slope, but finally manage to find balance.

I strain my eyes, glancing downward at the cluster of battle-scarred pelts; fur ripped with long pink lines stretching through it, like tiny pink snakes. The pelts and the scars are all familiar, every single one of them. I try to mentally count; try to see how many there are and how good my odds are, but my vision blurs suddenly and I lose track.

No tears, I tell myself fiercely, squaring my shoulders and directing my vision back to the group. While glancing at one pelt in particular, it is most difficult to keep the salty droplets from cascading down my cheeks. Dark ginger fur streaked with dirt and mud, mussed behind the ears but otherwise smooth, with a curved scar running down the back of her neck.

Memories flood back to me, but I refuse to let them overcome me. I shake my head fiercely, trying to free the recollections from my mind completely. A sudden gust of wind picks up from the nearby moorland, sweeping around me and taunting me with icy fingers. I shiver, a tremor running through me that has nothing to do with the wind.

I turn back to the scene below. They sit there at the base of the hill, waiting, their eyes clearly illuminated in the smog. Narrowed to slits, their emotions are still clear. I cast my gaze around the semicircle that they have formed. Anger. Hatred. All of them different, with one thing in common—all of the emotions are directed at me.

It's too late to turn back and pretend that I am merely passing through. Their eyes are too intent and focused; they have already seen me, and they won't let me escape again. I was lucky last time. This time, I am sure, I will not get away unscathed.

A growl forms in my throat. My feelings are identical as I stare at them. I hate them, too. But this time the difference is that their hatred is more powerful, magnified by their greater number. They all feel the powerful, burning detestation, whereas I am the only one.

And I am alone. There is nothing I can do now but continue down the hill. Perhaps I could pretend to be weak and sorry. I growl at the very thought; I am too proud to do such a thing, I think foolishly. The only thing to do is to meet my fate arrogantly as usual.

I continue down the hill, my steps deliberate and very sluggish. My contempt grows as I focus on each face at a time. Names come to mind now; I can remember them. A huge white tom with dark blue eyes; Titan. A skinny silver she-cat with a heavily scarred body; Iris. A muscular tabby tom with deep scars weaving through the features on his angry face; Thorn. A sleek black tom with burning amber eyes; Dusk. A pang shoots through me as I remember his uncanny similarity to Rigel; to his brother.

And finally, the last face, the one with the most powerful glare of pure loathing. A thin, dark ginger she-cat with many scars, though none of them detract from her exquisite beauty. Vixen. She sits beside Dusk, their shoulders touching in a friendly but non-platonic way. Her tail is wrapped neatly around her mud-stained paws. She watches my steps carefully, aware of every move that I make and looking tense; quick to jump and pin me down should I try and run away.

This hatred sends a powerful spasm of pain through me, rocking my body. Even though it was so long ago, the detestation that I see in her eyes is still agonizing. I try to seal my heart away; try not to feel any emotions. Try to be my regular, arrogant self.

I reach the bottom of the hill much too quickly. My paws tremble, and soon the uncontrollable shaking has spread throughout my entire body. I cannot stop the fear from spreading, but I clench my jaw and try my hardest to keep it from overcoming me.

As soon as my hind leg is on flat ground once more, the circle tightens around me, closing me in. The hatred shoots from their furious gazes and burns my pelt. My face is only an inch from Vixen's now. I narrow my eyes and try to meet her glare evenly, but the loathing in her eyes is too powerful to match.

"Kiera." A hiss escapes her, and I can hear the hatred leaking through every syllable. My name sounds like a curse on her tongue.

I do not speak. A thousand things to say come to mind, but none of them will help me now. My jaw is still clenched; I fear that I will break down sobbing if I try to open it.

"Why do you return?" she demands, drawing back her lips in a snarl. "Why do you return after everything you've done to us?"

Still, I can't force my jaw open. I stay silent and focus on trying to get my body to stop trembling.

"You're a monster," another voice speaks up, furious but not as painfully loathing as Vixen's. I cast my gaze around, but I cannot identify the speaker.

"You have no right to return," hisses Titan from Vixen's left. "Not after everything you've done."

"You should be killed." Dusk meets my gaze with a loathing one of his own. My carefully sealed heart breaks free of its binding and I feel unbearable agony shoot through me as my former friends stare at me with burning hatred in their eyes. The friends who used to hunt with me, scavenge for food among the rubble, groom each other's fur, scare the local house cats, and much more.

"I didn't do it," I manage to reply. "I didn't kill him."

"Why is he dead, then?" Vixen snarls, shoving her face into mine so that our noses touch. But the gesture is nowhere near friendly. I stumble back to the center of the circle, stunned from the impact. "Monster. We should kill you now."

"I didn't do it," I repeat, this time more firmly. "I didn't kill him."

Vixen lunges forward, biting down on my shoulder. Her sharp teeth sink into my flesh, and I shudder, twisting beneath her bite and shaking her free. Now I am furious—how dare they blame me? It wasn't my fault.

"I loved him!" I shout, launching myself towards her. She is unprepared for the attack, so I manage to land squarely on her shoulders and shove her down into the pavement. She struggles beneath my weight. Her snarls are muffled by the stone.

"Get off of her!" screeches Dusk, ripping me from Vixen's back. His sharp claws tear at my skin with an awful ripping sound. I gasp as blood forms in the wounds and trickles down my back. I whirl around. Adrenaline rushes through me, charging me with energy. I forget that they are my friends, my family, almost. I only care about defending myself and my honor.

I whirl around, seizing the moment when Vixen is recovering, and lunge for Dusk. We grapple for a moment, neither of us able to deal the other a blow. But he is bigger than me, and stronger. Finally, Dusk rolls over and pins me to the ground, his teeth at my throat. I struggle, kicking my legs and flailing my paws. Iris slinks forward and holds my right foreleg to the ground, while Thorn takes the other. I cannot move. Their weight is too much. I stop protesting as I stare into Rigel's brother's face.

"I didn't kill him," I meow between pants. "I didn't."

"Liar." He makes a small incision in my throat, not enough to kill me but enough to make me bleed. I wince at the tangy scent as the crimson substance dribbles down my neck. He raises his head and calls to his mate, "Vixen! What should we do with her?"

I crane my neck to try and see her. She is padding forward, her beautiful face tightened with rage and her perfectly shaped body tense. "Don't kill her," she snarls. "She doesn't deserve death. Let her wander the earth alone. We will not become murderers for this piece of filth."

I am relieved, yet at the same time, stung. My heart aches for them to understand, to believe. I am unbelievably hurt—how could they believe that I killed Rigel? He was my mate; I loved him. Slowly, Dusk releases me, climbing off me. Warily, Thorn and Iris do the same. I feel another pang as I watch them all stand together—I was once a part of this coven. The coven that now believes I am a murderer.

But I am. The night with Slashclaw flashes back to me with painfully vivid memories. Perhaps they are right; perhaps I do deserve to wander the earth alone. I shake those thoughts from my head. I am in too much pain already.

"Get up," hisses Vixen. Obediently I get to my paws, my entire body aching from the injuries. A small pool of blood has formed where my body used to be. The circle steps back, forming a small opening in front of me. "Now go. And don't you ever show your face here again, filthy murderer."

I resist crying; I resist doing anything except for dipping my head in assent and padding out of the circle. I glance up to meet the eyes of each of my former friends one more time, but all of their gazes say the same thing: Get out of here. We don't want you.

With a heavy heart, I pad out of the circle. It closes behind me. I stare up at the hill once again, trying to think. I glance behind me, but my friends' backs are turned. I guess there's nowhere else for me to go. I step onto the hill and start climbing.

Blizzardfur:

I glance anxiously at the sky. It is a pale, stormy sort of gray broken up by streaks of darker, grayish blue where the storm clouds gather. The tiny fragments of golden light that remain from the sunset are confined to a small corner of the tempestuous sky.

I try to glimpse the moon behind the dark clouds that are quickly gathering overhead, but I can't. Only a small sliver of silver light beams down, penetrating the thick, gray haze and dappling my fur an icy gray.

The camp is quiet and calm now; the excitement from the day wearing off. Most ThunderClanners are sitting outside their dens, enjoying the last bit of fresh air before the storm. There are a few anxious whispers, mostly from elders and apprentices, about the Gathering being cancelled, but other than that, everything is peaceful and serene.

My own personal serenity is shattered within moments as I glimpse Icepaw padding into camp, a small starling dangling limply from her jaws. She catches sight of me and bounds over excitedly, placing the prey at my paws.

"Good job," I praise her. "The elders have already been fed, so why don't you take that over to the apprentices' den and share it with Owlpaw?"

"He's hunting, too," Icepaw informs me indignantly. "I bet he's already eaten." Without waiting for another word, she flops down beside me and begins to pick the feathers daintily off the starling.

I sigh and settle down beside her, still watching the sky. The clouds seem to have gathered into a tight cluster in a matter of moments, glaring darkly at us from above. I glance around the camp, hoping to see Featherstar to inform her of the weather conditions, but she is nowhere to be found. I assume that she is still in her den, preparing the list of Gathering-goers.

"Do you think the Gathering will be cancelled?" Icepaw asks me, looking up from her meal with innocent, questioning eyes.

"I don't know," I reply. "Maybe. We'll have to talk to Featherstar. I get the feeling she'll want to meet with the other leaders tonight."

"I hope not." Icepaw looks distinctly troubled as she returns to her starling, but I don't ask her why. I am too preoccupied with my own thoughts; thoughts that seem to be wandering around anxiously, almost spastically. I can't keep my mind on one thing for long before it jumps to another. And, of course, I am having my own personal worries about the Gathering, but, somehow, those worries end up back to where my spastic thoughts started: Kiera.

I remember the scene yesterday and wonder why Kiera was there, on our territory again. It had been so soon after the night with Slashclaw that I couldn't help connecting the two. Did it have something to do with him? I don't know, but I am determined to find out. A small part of my mind asks why, but I shove the searching question aside. Another, even more private part of my brain yearns to see Kiera again, but I block that part of my mind as well.

"Where's Featherstar?" asks Icepaw, burying the remains of her meal and looking up at me with the same innocent stare. I wonder why she's so concerned; she's been to many other Gatherings before.

"In her den, I think," I respond, touching my tail tip to her shoulder. "Don't worry. I doubt the Gathering will be cancelled tonight. If we're lucky, the storm will pass right over us."

"But we can't see the moon," she murmurs, almost to herself. She looks uncharacteristically concerned.

"There's a sliver of it," I meow, trying to reassure her. She glances skyward, narrowing her blue eyes as she tries to glimpse the small beam of moonlight penetrating the clouds. I try to change the subject. "You're getting very good at hunting, you know, Icepaw," I mew, nudging her shoulder gently to regain her attention. "Perhaps we can have an assessment soon."

Icepaw twists her head to look back at me, but instead of looking joyously happy, her anxiety lingers. "Oh," she mews. "Cool." She turns back to watch the sky apprehensively.

I wonder why she's acting so strange, but I do not ask her. My own thoughts are unsettled enough; I don't need Icepaw's qualms about the Gathering worrying me as well. I am about to close my eyes and return to my thoughts about Kiera when I hear a commanding yowl from the top of the Highrock. Featherstar, her silver fur ruffled by the stormy breeze, stands on top of the slanted stone, her tail lashing out behind her.

I nudge Icepaw again and point towards Featherstar. She gets to her paws immediately and bounds over, staring up restlessly at the leader as she waits for the Gathering announcement. I follow her more slowly, still clinging on to my last memories of Kiera. Slowly the rest of the Clan joins into a crowd beneath the Highrock, and I take my place at the very base of it.

"We will still be going to the Gathering despite the uncertain weather," announces Featherstar. As she speaks, I can almost hear every single ThunderClan cat exhale deeply. Foreheads creased with worry smooth over, and anxious glimmers in eyes change to glimmers of relief. I seek out Icepaw, and see that she is grinning broadly, her tail twitching in so much excitement that she cannot keep still.

"The cats that will be going to the Gathering are Stonepelt, Cloudstorm, Tawnystripe, Owlpaw, Icepaw, Blizzardfur, and myself," meows Featherstar. "Only warriors and apprentices; no elders or queens in case the weather turns particularly nasty."

I can hear the elders beside me grind their teeth in frustration, and the queens sigh despondently. Featherstar's intense blue gaze softens, as she adds, "I'm sorry."

The crowd begins to break up, and those who have been invited to come to the Gathering move towards the thorn tunnel, Featherstar at the head of the throng. I follow closely behind her as she leads the mass out of camp. I glance at the sky one more time, and shiver. A storm is clearly coming.

The aura of the Gathering is clearly unsettled. As I take my place at the base of the Great Rock with the other deputies, I see that every cat is glancing back and forth between the other Clans' warriors and the tiny sliver of moonlight keeping the meeting from being adjourned.

I glance upward. Still, only three leaders sit calmly on the Great Rock. Featherstar, her intense, unafraid blue eyes gazing out over the see of cats below, and all of their anxious eyes. Brackenstar, the WindClan leader, his eyes just as anxious as the rest of the cats' below, his ginger fur mussed by the wind. And Falconstar, the ShadowClan leader, his mottled fur sleek on his back and looking slightly nonplussed.

"Where is Froststar?" he asks, turning towards Featherstar. "Where is RiverClan?"

"I don't know. Perhaps they decided not to show up because of the weather," she suggests calmly.

As if a signal, the wind picks up and swirls around the clearing. I squeeze my eyes shut to block the stinging rush of air. When I open them again, I see that standing at the entrance to the clearing is what looks like the entirety of RiverClan spread out along the outer edge of tree-enclosed space, with Froststar at the head.

I see Brackenstar shudder involuntarily as the leader pads forward to take her place on the Great Rock. Her white fur is smooth and sleek, her eyes gleaming intensely and superiorly. I know that there is something going on. A growl forms in my throat as I wait for Froststar to speak.

"The Gathering will begin now that all four leaders are here," announces Featherstar. The other leaders nod, except for Brackenstar, who is cowering behind Falconstar's broad shoulders. "Froststar, would you like to speak first?" I can tell that she is as anxious to see what has brought RiverClan here so late as the rest of the Clans are.

"Certainly," agrees the she-cat, stepping primly forward. She glances down over the crowd of cats, all waiting eagerly to hear her speech. She smiles her superior smile. "I suppose you are all wondering why all of RiverClan has come to join the Gathering." Yowls of agreement break out among the assembled cats.

"RiverClan has been slowly conquering the territory of the forest," meows Froststar. "We began with WindClan, and we have successfully taken over all of their land. ShadowClan will be next, followed by ThunderClan. Be prepared for siege." She pauses. "Unless, of course, you are willing to surrender your territory now?"

Cries of outrage break out from every single cat present, though I am not one of them. My shock and revulsion are internal; I do not have the words to express my fury. How dare Froststar?

"How dare you?" shouts Stonepelt from beside me, echoing my thoughts. "That territory belongs to WindClan, and WindClan only!"

"We'll never surrender to you, foxdung!"

"Give WindClan back their territory, you thieving mongrel!"

Froststar ignores the insults and smiles again. "I see. If that is the way you wish to be, we will take your territory by force. RiverClan!" The RiverClan cats all straighten, falling back into crouch positions, ready to pounce. "Attack them now!"

I am so stunned that at first I cannot move, or even think. But I am shocked back into reality when a black RiverClan warrior lashes out with his paw and hits me in the head with a sharp blow. I shake my head to bring my senses back, before rearing up and attacking him. Just as I sink my claws into his battle-scarred pelt, rain begins to pour down.

I ignore the rain and continue, tearing at his fur in rage. How dare RiverClan start a fight at the Gathering? I channel my fury into energy and leap into the air before smashing back down upon him. He struggles beneath my weight for a moment before going limp. I check to make sure that he is not feinting before I climb off him. No sooner have I defeated one warrior, when another pounces on me.

I whirl around to face the warrior. A silver tabby she-cat with muted dark green eyes. She lashes out with an unsheathed paw, catching the side of my face and ripping her claws through my fur. Angry that I have been wounded, I lunge forward and knock her off her paws. She goes flying backwards, landing in a mud puddle at a WindClan warrior's feet. He extends a paw to the she-cat, but instead of helping her, he smashes it into the side of her face, knocking her unconscious.

I am finally unencumbered by pouncing warriors, so I glance around, trying to see through the pounding, icy rain, hoping to see the white pelt of Icepaw. I see only muted browns or grays mottled together into clumps. I crane my neck over the crowd, frantically searching for the tiny apprentice who could be so easily injured in this horrific fight. But it's no use. Icepaw is gone.

Yeah, the ending sucked, I know. Oh well.

Constructive criticism appreciated.

-Breeze